"That is my picture," said Mrs. Fiske, "when I was eighteen. I was married soon after. I've changed very much since my marriage." Decidedly it was not Sylvia's lucky day for finding topics of talk. She was wondering how the billiard game was progressing, and was sorry she had not risked going with the others. She was recalled by Mrs. Fiske's saying with a soft earnestness, "I want you to know, Miss Marshall, how I _appreciate_ your kindness to me!" Sylvia looked at her in astonishment, half fearing that she was being made fun of. The other went on: "It was _very_ nice of you--your staying here to talk with me instead of going off with the young people--the others don't often--" She played nervously with a gleaming pendant on a platinum chain which hung over her flat chest, and went on: "I--you have _always_ seemed to me the very nicest of Jerry's friends--and I shall never forget your mother's kindness. I hope--I hope so much I shall see more of her. The Colonel thinks so too--we've liked so much having him like you." The incoherence of this did not prevent Sylvia's having a chillingly accurate grasp on its meaning. "It is the Colonel's hope," she went on painfully, "to have Jerry marry as soon as he graduates from the Law School. The Colonel thinks that nothing is so good for a young man as an early marriage--though of course Jerry isn't so very, very young any more. He--the--Colonel is a great believer in marriage--" Her voice died away into murmurs. Her long, thin throat contracted in a visible swallow.